Blood Magic
by KissKissCrush
Summary: On a summer trip to Italy, Ginny stumbles upon a different type of supernatural world than the one with which she is familiar and as she becomes caught up in its strange dark magic it becomes less and less clear if she will ever return to her former life as a witch and a low-born Weasley.
1. Who Are You?

AN~What do you do when you're not posting your other in-progress fics fast enough? Post a _new_ in-progress one of course! Forgive me, MTYN readers. I'll finish it eventually.

This is the long-threatened Aro/Ginny Weasley cross-over fic. It's weird. It's in third person. It's . . . well, you decide, I guess.

* * *

**1**

Her mother, of course, had been against her going to Italy alone in the first place. But she was nearly nineteen, well past the arbitrary line that made her an adult in England and there wasn't much her mother could do about Ginny's trip. With her wand hidden in my sleeve she was more than a match for any harassing men and she had enough money from her summer working as an assistant in the Spell Damage ward at St Mungo's to last her a while.

When she'd joined the tour group that day and been herded into that large, circular room along with everyone else, she'd actually been a bit bored. Until the doors shut. The tour guide had stopped the sort of silly babble she had had going the whole way through this giant old building. The sudden silence was jarring and she looked around for the cause of the abrupt change in mood. She noted for the first time that the guide was dressed in ridiculously elegant clothing that did not fit her proposed role as a guide for tourists. This wasn't right. Her hand jumped to her wrist to clutch the bottom of her wand but she didn't draw it yet. She waited with her muscles tensed, alert. A number of figures which had been standing around the walls stepped forward. They were all chalky-white with startling bright red eyes.

Vampires. They were vampires. She could feel the low sizzle of magic in the room which wasn't coming from her. They leapt into the crush of humans who scattered, shrieking. _Now_ she drew her wand. If these Muggles didn't die, she could obliviate them after. After spending the summer helping reverse botched memory spells, she knew how to perform them as well as that twat Gilderoy Lockhart ever had.

She hadn't run like the others, she was turning, wand in dueling position, calculating her move with the tragic skill of awareness in the midst of death that all veterans of war carried until they died. A young female vampire with blond hair rushed at her from the side. She twisted and sent a stunning spell at her without even speaking. The girl flew backwards crushing several people as she landed.

A male with long dark hair, who had been standing at the front of the room just down from a throne-like black and gold chair, whipped around at the disturbance and focused on Ginny immediately among the chaos. Everyone had scattered away from her when the red light had erupted from her wand leaving her exposed in the center of the vast marble floor. The other vampires were holding the remaining humans back against the wall, shifting around nervously, none of them apparently brave enough to attempt attacking her. The dark-haired male dropped the woman he was holding and she fell limply to the stone floor with a sickening smack. He stepped over her without looking down. He walked toward Ginny slowly, looking her over carefully, his pale hands held palm out over her his chest in a universal don't-hex-me-and-I-won't-eat you gesture. His mouth was open slightly, his teeth and tongue glistening with that tourist's blood, his red eyes darted between her wand and her face. She kept her defensive stance, trying to look defiant. She'd faced Voldemort, this guy looked pretty soft next to him. She stared him down without flinching. He smiled, the effect was disturbing as it caused a small amount of blood to seep out between his lips and color his bottom lip redly wet.

He stopped a few feet from her, looking completely passive like she was just a guest he was greeting. He tilted his head and looked pointedly at her wand, as though he couldn't understand why she would trying to attack him when he was just standing there.

No one was moving. Her wand hand relaxed infinitesimally and before she could react, he'd reached out and plucked her wand easily from her grip so fast she didn't even see it fully. A faint blur and then he had it and was turning it deftly between pale fingertips and caressing the carving on the grip. It was a little worn in places now, where her fingers had rubbed grooves into the finish and where it had been dented in book bags and battles. She felt like he'd torn her arm off. He set it against his cheek for a moment looking thoughtful and she was suddenly reminded of Xenophilius Lovegood because he was acting so strangely and had the same sort of airy, dancey way of moving. When he spoke that association was reinforced. He had a sort of dreamy, quiet voice that made her feel more relaxed and then immediately anxious because of it. She knew she hadn't paid close enough attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts the week they'd focused on vampires and had no idea of what kinds of powers they might have. A sudden feeling of security had to be bad though.

"Just a piece of wood," he said, a note of fascination in his voice. "And yet, not a piece of wood when you hold it."

"It's not a _piece of wood_, you git. That's an Ollivander wand. It has Dragon Heartstring in it."

She clapped her hand over her mouth. She didn't have to know anything about vampires to know it was probably vastly stupid to call one of them and git while they had your wand. But he just raised his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Oh well, I suppose you would like it back then?"

"Yes, please."

"'Yes, please!'" He repeated. He seemed extremely amused and many of the vampires along the walls laughed quietly but he didn't give it back to her. "Why don't you stay with us for a while, I'd like to know a little bit more about you." He laced his fingers together over her wand so it all but disappeared inside of his pale hands.

"Well, you don't know anything about me now, so you can hardly know _more_," she replied sassily.

The blond vampire she'd stunned started forward now looking angry and he stayed her with a raised hand. She looked furious. But rather than angry, his odd delight only seemed to grow with her probably foolhardy lack of fear of him. Most of the blood was gone from his mouth now except for that bit on his lip and when he spoke his teeth were sparkling white.

"I know that you are a _witch_, and judging by your accent you are from England, in the south probably," he said, running his fingers down the length of her wand in a gesture that made her extremely uncomfortable. It was a part of her and seeing a stranger touch it, especially in a way that looked so suggestive was deeply unsettling like he'd reached under her skirt and slid his hand up her thigh. "And if you tell me your name, that will be something else. Then later we can work on more."

"What's _your_ name? Dracula?" It was a famous Muggle book Hermione had told her about. Maybe he wouldn't even know it.

He still didn't look angry though. He laughed. It was loud and a little hysterical and it echoed around the room. He was the only one laughing this time though. Everyone else was looking increasingly mutinous.

"You know, in the hundred and ten years since that book was published, you're the only person brave enough to try calling me that. My name is Aro, I am of the Volturi. You've just met them," he said, gesturing around, like they were at a dinner party and he was introducing her to his friends. "I am much older than the ill-fated Count Dracula, but who knows? Maybe he's based on me and I don't even know it!" He laughed again. He didn't seemed to mind or be at all self-conscious that he was the only person in the room laughing. "Now, who are you?"

"Uh, I'm Ginny. I'm a Weasley." She was kind of used to people around her knowing the Weasley family and added it automatically. It made her feel shabby just saying it, especially in front of this impeccably dressed man whose smooth, pale face had a sort of regal and frightening beauty and who seemed far more elegant than her even though she had just seen him rather violently murder a Muggle woman not five minutes before.

"Ginny is an odd name. And I'm afraid you'll have to forgive me as I don't know what a 'Weasley' is, my dear."

"It's . . . that's my last name: Weasley. Ginny is short for Ginevra."

"That's prettier," he said.

She'd always thought it was stuffy but he punctuated this declaration with a slow glance downward to her exposed legs and she was very aware then of the bruises and and bug bites she'd picked up while traveling. She shifted under his scrutiny.

He continued to stare at her for a while after that but not anywhere specific and she wondered if he was deciding if he should kill her. He was eerily still. Finally he put out his hand to her and said, "Come."

She felt a mesmerizing need to obey and had just lifted her hand from her side when the little blond vampire, she looked about fourteen, stepped forward again, closer now.

"Master . . ." she said. She looked upset.

"It is okay, Jane dear. I think she has no ability to produce magic without her wand . . . "

Clearly this was not what Jane was nervous about. Ginny could see it and she had just met them. It was unlikely that he didn't know it as well. She felt a little sympathy for her at his public disregard of her when it was painfully obvious that this girl, whoever she was, was almost worshipfully in love with him. She noticed a lot of the other vampires were looking away uncomfortably. They knew as well. Jane turned and looked directly at her, an intense expression on her face and Aro stepped between them and said, "No," very firmly. "She's a guest now, Jane and we'll treat her as one. Come along, my dear," he said to Ginny and slipping his hand around her elbow he led her swiftly out a door off to the side, much smaller door than the one the tour had come in.

She didn't try to run, it would have been silly, she'd already seen how fast they were and he had her wand. She didn't think he could use it but while he had it, she couldn't either and she certainly couldn't leave without it.

It seemed she did not have a choice about staying and that he'd decided at least for the time, not to kill her. She decided to remain calm until she could reacquire her wand and went along with him as he led her down a winding stone staircase away from the sounds of the remaining tourists being murdered by his strange and unsettling kin.

* * *

END NOTES: Most of you picking this up are probably my _Twilight_ fic readers so this is probably just wacky as frack to the _Harry Potter_ peeps stumbling on this and I apologize for all the wtf happening right now. Hah.

_Harry Potter_ really was my first real fandom love and it's a really vast fandom so attempting to blend that world with _Twilight_ which is complex in its own right and so very different even though they both deal with the supernatural is kind of an awesome task. I have only the vaguest of idea of where this is going but if you'd like to come along while I figure it out, I promise we'll have some kind of weird fun together as it progresses.


	2. Stained

**2**

He led her into a room that was halfway between a bedroom and a library.

"What's this?"

"It's my room. I'm going to let you borrow it during your stay, I assure you it will be quite comfortable enough for you. I'm a bit sentimental about human extravagances . . ."

"Why do you have a bed? I thought vampires slept in coffins . . ."

"Actually, we don't sleep at all. And surely you know there are other uses for a bed than sleeping . . ."

His eyes stayed on her face, challenging her to look away and admit his words embarrassed her and even though he was only looking at her face it still felt like he had undressed her and run his tongue up the length of her body. She had a very clear vision of him doing just that, starting at her calf and moving around the contours of her thigh, over the blade of one of her hip bones and across to dip into her navel, she _felt_ his hands cupping her lower back as he caressed the underside of her breast with his tongue before moving to her collarbone then underside of her jaw to her ear where he released with a playful flick. The image was so sudden, detailed and real that she wondered if he had the power to plant thoughts in people's minds like a reverse Legilimens. She didn't want to ask though in case it was just her. She'd had sexual fantasies before, vivid ones even, but none like that and not so soon after meeting a person. But he wasn't a person. That wasn't fair, actually. Professor Lupin was a person. But he wasn't a wolf all the time. This man, Aro, he was a monster every second. But she knew that whether or not he had planted the thought didn't matter because a strange warmth had rushed up the insides of her thighs and settled between them making her fight to remain standing still.

Ignoring his comment and changing the subject seemed best.

"So, I'm a prisoner then?"

"You are my guest," he said so sweetly she almost felt he genuinely believed it.

"If I'm your guest, why can't I have my wand?"

"What kind of guest feels the need to bring a weapon to the home of their host?" he countered smoothly.

"It's not just a weapon. I use it for other things."

"I'll be interested in you showing me some of those soon," he said and then moved to the door. "I'm not going to lock this but I think that after what you have seen today you'll know better than to try wandering the halls of this place with your veins full of that heavenly-smelling human blood of yours."

He left and it was utterly quiet for a long time, three hours by the old-fashioned clock on the mantle, when she heard voices in the corridor.

"You cannot _keep_ a human, Aro! It breaks our laws, _your_ laws," someone was shouting. A woman who sounded angry.

"She's not _just _a human, she's a witch, they too live under laws of secrecy and as she undoubtedly already knew of vampires before coming here, I hardly think she is a threat," he said calmly.

"So she's magical! Is she here willingly? This is stupid and dangerous, Aro! I don't think wizards agree with the slaughter of a pack of humans."

"I think they call them 'Muddles' or some such thing and many magical people do not care very much for them. She is my guest. Also I have her wand, she can do nothing without it," he said slightly irritated.

"So, _not _willingly then. A prisoner? No . . . _a pet_," her voice had a disgusted petulance to it.

"You can continue on being a bitch as long as you like, my dear, but just keep in mind that Caius was right, it makes you look like a hag," he said and then the door opened and behind him, I saw a porcelain-faced vampire woman with glorious dark brown hair and a lovely, red mouth before he closed the door on her beautiful, enraged face.

"I'm guessing you're quite hungry by now, I've had some food prepared for you if you'd like to come and have dinner with me," he invited politely.

"_With_ you? Are you going to be eating a person at the table?"

"Your fearless snark is . . . intensely amusing," he said, smiling. "I have already eaten as you, I am certain, recall and will just be joining you for company. There is so much I want to ask you . . ."

She wasn't feeling very hungry but she was extremely bored so she didn't think of saying no, she followed him out of the room and this time they only went down the hallway where he opened the door on a large dining hall.

"Why do you even have a room like this?"

"Sometimes we entertain," he said simply and she got the feeling this "entertaining" was a lot like the "tour" she had witnessed earlier. She was sure it ended with an orgy of human bloodshed.

At the far end of this table a rather extravagant meal was laid, with a single place setting to the left of the chair at the head. He sped in front of her with eerie speed and held her chair for her. He was sitting before she had even pulled herself to the table.

The food was rich, well-seasoned and there was far too much of it for a single person. Especially a single person with a rather limited appetite. She put a small portion of everything on her plate and ate slowly. He had said he had questions but all he had done so far was stare at her intently with his frightening red eyes.

"Who was that woman?"

If he wasn't going to ask questions, she would.

"Technically, my wife." His face was impassive.

"Technically?"

"We were legally married 1,500 years ago so after the period of time in which our mortal lives would have ended were weren't legally married anywhere in this world. But since neither of us really is dead, we're technically married still."

"Were you both alive when you got married?"

"No, I had been a vampire for a very long time before I met her. She changed for me and then we married," he said.

"That's impressive, becoming a mons—vampire for someone."

"Oh, now, don't be shy. I am a monster."

"It sounds rude."

"Yes, but by practical definitions, I am."

"She was pretty mad."

"She is jealous."

"Why?"

"You are female. And young."

"But that's silly, she's beautiful!"

"You underestimate the allure of the uncommon," he said, reaching out and pulling a strand of her hair between two of his fingers gently.

"So, is that why you're keeping me then? Are you going to . . ." she didn't want to finish.

"I want to make it clear that I have never had need to force myself on any woman. Except to kill her, of course."

"That's not especially reassuring."

"It should be. I have no intention of killing you."

"But you intend to do . . . other things?"

"Let's not jump ahead," he said softly. "I want to know how you learned your magic. I assume you weren't born with the innate knowledge of spellwork like the type you used against my little Jane earlier . . ."

She breathed in and out slowly. A small wave of sadness swept through her thinking about Hogwarts. It was destroyed in the battle with Voldemort and was still mostly in a state of extreme disrepair.

"At school."

"A magical school? Fascinating."

"It's called Hogwarts. There's a few actually. Hogwarts is just where I went. But it's the best school," she said proudly.

"We often think our things are the best things . . ."

She didn't like the condescending note of that and the suggestion that Hogwarts was only the best because she thought so.

"I'm not the only one who thinks that. Anyway, the headmaster, he was the greatest wizard ever known."

"Was?"

"He's dead."

"So, not so great."

"What? You can't be great unless you're also immortal?" She said tartly.

"No. But being dead makes it hard to keep hold of that legacy. How did he die?"

"He was murdered."

"By?"

"A teacher . . ."

"And that teacher was a greater wizard than your headmaster?"

" . . . no. He was okay. He was good at things like potions."

"Did he poison this great wizard then?"

"He used the Killing Curse on him."

His eyes glittered. "A killing curse?" His voice sounded like he was forcing the calmness he was exhibiting.

"Yes, it's one of the Unforgivables. You go to Azkaban for life for casting it along with two other ones which are also Unforgivable."

He wasn't talking now, his eyes were darting back and forth like he was reading but he was just looking into space.

"Azkaban is our prison . . ." she said to fill the silence.

"Is there a defense against this Killing Curse?" He wasn't interested in the prison apparently.

"No. Well, not really. I mean, you can use shields if you're quick enough and there was someone it didn't kill once."

"Just one?"

"Only one we know about."

"Is that person a powerful wizard then?"

"You assume it was a wizard?"

"A witch?"

"No, it was a wizard . . . you just assumed a _man_ . . . nevermind. He's not really especially powerful I guess," she felt a little guilty saying this about Harry, but he would admit to it himself if asked, "I mean, he was a baby at the time anyway."

"Someone tried to murder a baby with a curse that could send them to your prison for life just by casting it?"

"You seemed shocked for someone who eats people every day."

"Even I don't eat babies," he said, loftily.

"Well, the wizard who did it was really evil. The most evil in our history. People don't even say his name. They're still afraid of him."

It felt odd explaining this, she had never met anyone who didn't know about You-Know-Who or the name Harry Potter except a few Muggle-borns and even they usually knew a little by the time they got to school.

"Was? So, he's dead too? Your powerful wizards seem rather flimsy," he said, slightly bewildered. "Who killed him?"

"Harry Potter. The baby he tried to kill. After he grew up, of course."

"Really?" This seemed to delight him. "How perfectly hilarious. Well done, little Harry Potter."

"He was seventeen when it happened," she offered for no particular reason.

"And how old is he now?"

Uh-oh.

"Twenty . . ."

He squinted at me, suspicious now. "And how old are you, my dear?"

"Almost nineteen . . ."

"You know him."

"We went to school together," she said evasively.

"I could read your mind as easily as I could reach out and kill you, sweet Ginevra, but I prefer conversation just now so tell me the truth now about this Harry Potter. How well do you know this boy savior, unskilled vanquisher of great evil wizards?"

"We dated."

His face lit up and he clapped his hands together excitedly. "And why are you so sure he isn't powerful? Not sour grapes I hope?"

"No!" she said, embarrassed that he thought she would badmouth Harry because of some brokenhearted bitterness. "We're still friends. I mean, he's always been friends with my older brother . . ."

At this his face became annoyingly knowing and he tsked.

" . . . but I see him all the time and it's not weird. I don't hate him."

"Did he break up with you?"

"Yes, but only because he had to go track down these things he needed to kill You-Know-Who."

"I don't," he said.

"Don't know what?"

"You said 'you-know-who' like I should know who. I don't."

"Oh! I'm sorry, that's what people called that evil wizard. That or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,' that's what official people call him. No one says his actual name. Except Harry and Dumbledore."

"Not even you, brave girl who sasses three thousand year old vampires?"

"You're three thousand years old!?"

"Give or take a few centuries."

"I'm nineteen . . ." she said repeating her age to feel the full weight of its insignificance.

"So was I, one time, years don't mean so very much after awhile when you live on a continuum. You may as well be a hundred and nineteen to me."

"I'm sure your wife doesn't feel that way," she said warily.

"No, probably not. But her jealousy is bizarre in the first place as it became increasingly obvious over the years that she was more interested in immortality than in me anyway," he said factually and without a trace of acidity.

"Then why didn't she just get you to turn her into a vampire? Why did she marry you?"

"I didn't say she didn't _like_ me. She did. We were very attracted to each other and that physical connection is very much more . . . intense when you're vampires," he said with a suggestive smile.

"Oh."

"You'll see . . ."

"What!"

She had been reaching for the glass of wine that was set for her but her hand jumped when he said this causing her to knock it over.

"You can simply believe me now when I tell you that you will choose to become a vampire," he stated.

"What? Why would you think that? You only met me a few hours ago! And now you think I'll become a vampire and, what? Kill innocent tourists with you and your little family of bats and live in this weird old castle and be your . . ." she didn't finish. She was blushing remembering her weird vision of him licking her and how her body had reacted to it. She didn't know why she'd insulted their castle, it was beautiful. And she'd loved living at Hogwarts and felt a little ashamed of how plain the Weasley home was when first going back to it each summer. If you were going to live somewhere forever, this wasn't terrible.

He listened to her little rant patiently. "I've made three hundred vampires in my life, I have an exceptional knack for knowing who will choose to turn. You have that feel about you. There's a kind of curiosity in you that will never be satisfied in a single lifetime. You could see everything this way. Go everywhere. Be beautiful forever, young forever, _magical_ forever. Inventor of new spells only possible to conceive and execute with a superior immortal mind and body! _You_ could be the greatest wizard to ever live . . ."

He righted her spilled glass and smoothly refilled it as he spoke. His actions were so silky and flowing it was mesmerizing, even doing something as simple as pouring wine looked beautiful.

She had never been interested in power but the way he presented things didn't make it seem unappealing. She had never been exceptional about schoolwork like Hermione, but it wasn't because she didn't like learning. She liked to _experience _things rather than read about them, it's why she'd gotten along with Harry and Ron so much more than Hermione. She was disturbed by how right he was in pointing out that she had the kind of curiosity that couldn't be satisfied in a single lifetime. He'd said he could read her mind, had he? She felt I would know somehow if he had. Harry had described the sensation as almost painfully intrusive. Not something she would have been able to ignore, but maybe it didn't work the same way. She put her hand to her temple unconsciously.

"I did not read your mind," he said. "I would have to be touching you for that. Like this," he reached out for one of her hands and taking it he placed his other hand on top of hers. His skin was smooth and cool. Just barely not uncomfortable.

"Don't be afraid, I won't do it unless you allow me to," he said soothingly but he didn't let go of her hand. He was staring at her face again. "You don't have to feed on humans you know."

"What? You can eat food?"

"No, not like that, you can drink animal blood instead of human blood if you're so inclined," he said this a little disdainfully like the idea was vaguely gross. "There are a few families that live that way. One in America, the Cullens, are particularly staunch." The way he said their name alerted her to some unspoken tension between them.

"You don't like them."

"They're . . . oppressively compassionate," he said as though this were an explanation.

"You wouldn't like my family then."

"Your family is also magical, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Are they afraid of their own power? Do they actively suppress their own natural magical abilities and inclinations?"

"No, but they don't use their powers for evil."

"How can I be evil just doing the thing I was made to do?"

"Because you have a choice not to."

"Ah, choice. Humans love that idea so much."

"Idea? You don't think we have a choice? You just said those American vampires choose to eat animals!" She said, irritated at his calm superiority.

"I did not. I said that they _do_ it. I don't know if they _choose_ it or if their natures just compel them to."

"So, you're trying to trick me?"

"How am I doing that?" he said, looking amused again. His thumb brushed the back of her hand reminding her he was till touching her.

"You said I could drink animal blood if I wanted but you actually believe I don't have a choice."

"Doesn't the idea of drinking animal blood appeal to you more than drinking human blood?"

"Yes."

"Then that is what you will do and why would going with your natural desire be a choice?"

She didn't answer. She didn't want to agree with him but she couldn't think of any way to discount anything he'd said. She was staring at the still slowly spreading stain on the table cloth. The red liquid had created a large splash of crimson against the white. Only a spell would get that out now. She could clean it up in a second with her wand but instead she was forced to stare at it, unable to change it in any way. And now without her wand she was watching her acquaintance with this strange, eloquent vampire do the same thing to her. Come from England all pearly white, only slightly tinged around the edges from the war and now in only a few encounters _he_ had thrown an unscrubbable stain across her that she knew she wouldn't be able to remove even with her wand.

"It's actually quite late now, I'm sure you will want to sleep," he said.

"How could I sleep?"

"The bed in your room is very comfortable . . ."

"Oh, a comfortable bed in a castle full of vampires! How restful!"

He grinned. "You are not afraid of me. I find that . . . impressive. No one will harm you, I promise it."

"Why? Are you their king?"

"No, I am their leader in a way along with two others."

He stood and offered me his hand again, I took it and rose, feeling silly. He held my hand for a moment looking down at me and then let go slowly and swept me from the room swiftly back to my opulent prison where he left me all alone to contemplate the new color on my soul.

* * *

END NOTES: You'll notice that Aro's mind-reading works differently here. This was written at the beginning of my current _Twilight_ obsession and I hadn't researched very much so I adapted in the draft and it worked better with the story not to change it. Having Aro be able to read the mind of a love interest wouldn't be very interesting so something prevents it in all of my Aro stories. In this world, he has to will it.

I was actively engaged in writing this and was stuck in the middle when I went to see BD2 a second time and while talking to my friend in the parking lot after about where this story should go, I was struck by the idea for the filthy, smutty one shot that eventually became AYW/the entire AtB series. So, yay for that because none of those would exist if I hadn't been talking to her about how to fix this!

* * *

**Non-story note:** I mentioned a while back that I was working on several original novels. The editing for those has been eclipsed by my fics sadly but the first chapter of the first one I intend to publish through KDP is available on my author blog: inkypinkyfingers dot blogspot dot com if you'd like to read it.


	3. V for Volturi

_AN~No updates on anything at all for like four days! I wasn't dead, I was working on the sequel to _You!

_Oh yeah, Limes . . . ish._

* * *

**3**

She had met no other vampires in her time at the castle. She guessed it had been several weeks but the days were blurring. She stayed in Aro's room and did more reading than she ever had before. She felt like Hermione and wondered why you would ever choose such a solitary life for yourself.

He brought her out at dinner times to that same large dining hall and he brought breakfast and lunch to her room. They talked for a long time about the wizarding world and he told her little pieces of his life and explained in a little more detail each time about vampires.

Today he came in to her room an hour after bringing her back from dinner. He had her wand. He set in on a table almost absentmindedly and then walked away from it. He started talking about something mundane, even turned his back on the wand. She knew it was stupid but she did it anyway. Before she had even taken a full step toward the table he was on her. He propelled her back into the wall. He was careful and it didn't hurt her. She knew he could have easily pinned her to the wall with just one of his slender, pale hands but he was holding her in place with the entire length of his body, his hands, unusually warm, were holding her hands by her sides. It was the closest he had been although he often took her hand while they talked.

"Oh now, I thought we could trust each other," he said with mock disappointment.

"If you knew my family, you'd know I had to try."

"Yes. It's your red hair I suspect, redheads have a reputation for being fiery and they rarely fail to live up to it. Especially females. Whether it is something in your genes or a cliche that you can't help but adopt, the effect is the same," he said, a weird note in his voice, his crimson eyes were traveling her face and one hand had reached up to touch a bit of her hair.

"What were you going to do, hmm? I've been researching your Killing Curse. _Avada Kedavra_."

His hand swooped in the air as he said it as though he were directing a song and indeed the way his voice formed the words, they were quite musical.

"I don't think it would work on me. As far as I can divine, the curse stops the heart and causes all electricity to cease in the body. Since there is no electricity in me and my heart does not beat at all," he placed her palm on his chest so she could feel its stillness, "I am fairly certain it would not harm me."

"I wasn't going to do that anyway . . ."

"If I give you your wand, what will you do?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. A long time ago she would have tried to escape. But she was starting to not feel like a prisoner and more like the guest Aro had insisted ridiculously that she was since her arrival.

"I would like to see some of your magic," he said sweetly. In a blink he was across the room and back, now holding her wand. He offered it to her. She felt sure he was quicker than her spells and reached for it with no intention of casting an unfriendly curse or jinx.

Having her wand back in her hand made it apparent how empty and broken she had been without it. Her relief must has shown plainly because he said, "Oh, that is a part of you isn't it?" His voice was soft, apologetic. "I am sorry I had to take it for us to get here but it seemed necessary." He paused. "Can I see something?" he asked, excitement obvious in his tone. "Please?"

She picked up a slim book she had been reading earlier and tapped the spine, the book rose from her hand like a bird and flapped around the room, swooping and gliding before landing on the bed.

His delight was almost childlike and he turned to her, ecstatic. "Another."

She took a chance and waved her wand in his direction, crimson ribbons shot out and twisted around his wrists binding them loosely together.

"They're usually ropes but my friend Hermione and I altered the spell for fun," she said smiling.

"Wonderful," he said, shaking the ribbons away like they were made of water. They vanished when they lost contact with him.

She went to the fireplace and with a flick, the flames there disappeared. Another swish and blue flames appeared in their place. She turned fluidly and transfigured a vase into a glass ball and then made a pile of books fly in the air and land in a neat stack across the room.

She turned again looking for something else to charm and found that he was right there, so close that her movement had send her straight into his chest. He caught her, the look on his face had changed from that innocent delight to something intense and a little unsettling. His head was tilted, close to hers. She knew he was going to kiss her but he was waiting and it wasn't because of the nervous uncertainty of the boys she had kissed at school, he was waiting for consent because he wanted her to give herself to him willingly. She felt dizzy, her bottom lip slipped into her mouth for a moment, coming back out slightly moist, she lifted her face a little and that must have been enough because he pulled her tighter into him and brought his mouth onto hers with a gentle force that made her grateful he was holding her up. His lips were surprisingly warmer than she'd thought they would be. Still cool, but not frigid. He was gentle and reserved, she didn't know if it was to not scare her or to not hurt her. The softness of the movements didn't lessen their effect any, kissing Aro was making her head swim and her muscles grow warm and loose. He stopped and she made an involuntary little noise that was half moan and half gasp.

She realized she had never actually kissed a man before. Boys, yes. A few boys, but not a man like Aro. Not that there _was _another man like him.

She had her head on his chest while she gathered herself. She wondered if the lack of a heartbeat was an indication of a lack of a metaphorical heart. Why was he doing this?

"What are your plans for me?"

He pushed her back so he could look at her. He looked a little dreamy and she was surprised that their kiss had seemed to have nearly as profound an effect on him as it had on her.

"I want you to stay longer. Willingly," he said his voice low.

"How long? Are you going to take my wand again?"

"Until you decide to let me change you. And I don't want to take it again."

"What happens if I let you change me? Do I stay here? Do you want me as your mate?"

"I'd like you to stay, but after you're changed you'll be quite powerful and I probably couldn't stop you from leaving."

"I'd be stronger than you?" she asked, disbelieving.

"As a newborn, you'd be exceptionally stronger for awhile and combined with your magical ability . . ."

This was a bizarre idea to her but she didn't question it more.

"If you let me change you, train you, you could be one of the most powerful vampires on earth."

"You're a little horny for power, you know."

"Horny?"

"It means . . . it's American, nevermind. Do you . . . want me to stay as your mate or just a member of your clan?"

"I won't pretend that the idea of a relationship with you, with the vampire you'll be, isn't alluring to me. But I won't, of course, force you," he said with liquid grace.

"You'd only want me as a vampire?"

"I just kissed you, you're human now," he said his fingers traced her jaw.

"So you want to be with me even if I don't change?"

"That would be logistically unrealistic," he said seriously. "I cannot expect my coven to accept a human living among them. Other than the fact that you are food, your ways are not our ways. And then," he pulled her back and began kissing her throat, "our sex life wouldn't be very satisfying if I had to constantly be making sure I don't accidentally kill you in a too passionate moment . . ." His voice was dark fire and she swayed into him, her head feeling light and empty and the soothing silence it brought was welcome after the preceding anxiety heavy weeks.

* * *

That night he had stayed with her while she slept. Their kissing had evolved into a slow removal of clothing until she was mostly nude and slightly embarrassed in front of him. He had moved them to the bed before taking off any of her clothes. His elegant hands undressed her with ease and then explored her skin reverently as each section was exposed. She had always been pale but next to the porcelain of his flesh, she looked pink and creamy. He kissed her body with slow deliberation, not rushing her. She appreciated his courtesy because as exciting as it was having him pay this kind of attention to her it was also flat out terrifying knowing that he might just decide he was bored with their game and kill her after all at any moment.

He'd come back to her face to taste her mouth again after her shirt and bra were gone and she was topless and extremely self-conscious, squirming a little under his gaze which had grown unnervingly predatory. Something cold, colder than him even landed on her bare chest. She made a little surprised noise and he drew back and apologized, lifting a heavy, gold filigree medallion off of her skin. It had swung out from a chain around his neck.

"What is it?" she asked, reaching out.

He placed it in her hand and let her look at it for a moment, touch its curves with her fingertips. The main body was a large V surrounding swirling accents and a crest sat nestled in the center of the letter.

"It is the symbol of the Volturi."

"Oh, I guess I've seen it before. Just not up close. Do you always wear it?"

"Yes." He took it back from her. "And you will as well if I turn you and you stay here. You'll be one of us."

"That scares me."

"I'm sorry. You're scared of a piece of metal but not of me?"

"I am scared of you."

"But not really," he said. "Maybe it's bravery, maybe it's foolishness, but I can hear your heartbeat when I do this," he slid his hand up under one of her breasts, "and I know the difference between an excited heartbeat and a terrified one."

She'd closed her eyes when he'd done this, heat lighting up her face.

"Yours is excited," he whispered in her ear unnecessarily.

He removed her pants but left her underwear chastely in place. He allowed her to unbutton his shirt and push it off to reveal his unnaturally smooth and milky skin. When she started shivering he insisted she get under the blankets, then lay next to her, on top of the cover to keep his icy skin away from hers.

"I could, um, if you give me my wand I could cast a warming charm and then you could stay with me for a little while if you wanted and you wouldn't have to be out there . . ."

She didn't know why this was making her feel embarrassed, she wasn't being salacious, just practical. But she was basically inviting him into her bed—his bed—and that was significant.

He was gone and back with her wand which they had left near the fire an hour ago before. She waved it and a comfortable glowing warmth settled on her. She nodded to him and he slid into the bed next to her. He touched her shoulder lightly.

"Not cold?"

"You're still cold, but it isn't making me cold. Maybe that doesn't make sense. Magic," she said shrugging.

He slid closer until he was pressed against her. He was still wearing pants but was otherwise nude except for his necklace which she had avoided when taking off his shirt, wary about touching it like it might be cursed. She shivered as her breasts made contact with his chest and he drew back a moment.

"Too cold?"

"No, not from cold," she said, suddenly feeling bolder now with the covering of the blankets, she leaned into him and placed her lips on his neck tentatively. He didn't resist and she kissed her way up to his mouth where she took the lead on a kiss for the first time, she directed him silently with her lips, her tongue and he allowed her to. She felt ridiculously powerful when she got a quiet moan from him. He'd been around for millennia and was probably bored to tears by kissing and had been kissed every way imaginable but he seemed to like what she was doing.

He broke their kiss with a strained expression and pressed his face into her hair, inhaling deeply.

"You want to bite me."

"Yes, very badly. But I won't. You should be careful how you kiss me though. Since it would be dangerous for us to have sex, that lust is getting transferred to . . . other hungers. I liked the way you kissed me," he added reassuringly, "it just made me want to devour you, one way or another." His eyes were a darker red than usual. "Why don't you sleep," he suggested, pushing her hair back. "I'll stay if you like. And I won't harm you."

"I know."

"So sure . . ." he said slightly amused. "So innocent. Trusting. Hmm."

She fell asleep quickly and only woke once in the night when her warming charm had worn off. She recast it and settled back against him as he shifted to accommodate her. For a moment when when she'd first woken, his eyes were closed and since he wasn't breathing it really seemed too much like laying next to a corpse but he opened his eyes a moment later and smiled a little oddly at her and she'd relaxed again. It was strange to be with a person who was both there and not there. She didn't understand what made him both dead and alive but it was certainly some sort of magic and magic did not scare her. She kissed his jaw and fell asleep again, feeling a way she never would have believed on the day she arrived.

Feeling happy.

And safe.

* * *

END NOTES: Their relationship moves fairly quickly as there is a lot that happens after and not really much to do in Volterra at this point so yeah.

A vigilant reader (always glad for those) found my pronoun disagreement in the first two chapters. This was originally written in third person and I tried to switch it to first and that didn't sound right so I went back but I knew I'd miss a few I's and me's. Sorry for the confusion.


End file.
